


Coming at the problem from another angle

by becka



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, Pegging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-26
Updated: 2012-09-26
Packaged: 2017-11-15 01:47:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/521828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becka/pseuds/becka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-movie. Bruce avoids sex for fear of Hulking out. Natasha coaxes him to try something new, which works out pretty well for everyone. In other words: pegging porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming at the problem from another angle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [azephirin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/azephirin/gifts).



> Written for azephirin who asked for pegging fic and was patient when I took seven million years to post this! Also fills the wildcard square for my kink_bingo card. Thanks to balefully for the read-through.

“You don’t drink,” says Natasha, settling onto the couch beside Bruce.

He smiles sheepishly. “Not anymore. Better not to tempt fate. The big guy’s not a lot of fun at parties.” At the bar, Tony is doing flashy bartender tricks, flipping glasses and laughing. Thor seems intrigued by the process, but Natasha can see Clint’s fingers twitching like he knows he can do better.

“You’re careful,” she says, affirming it. There’s still a little curl of fear in her gut when she’s this close to him, an edge of wariness like she has around anyone who’s ever tried to kill her. But she likes Bruce, his quiet kindness and his wry sense of humor.

“I try to be. There are too many things I can’t control. Too many situations where I can’t know what’s going to happen. So I do what I can.” Natasha is deeply familiar with that kind of risk management.

“Do you miss it?”

“Drinking? Not really. I miss sex more.” He pauses. “I probably shouldn’t say that, huh?”

“No reason not to. Everyone here’s seen you naked. We all know it’s not from a lack of equipment.” She sips her martini and watches him go dully red, so much more sweetly than he goes green.

“I don’t trust myself to keep the other guy in check in times of… excitement.”

“And you don’t trust anyone else enough to let them help you.” She realizes as she says it that she’s sizing up the challenge, working out what exactly she could do to drive him wild but keep him human. It’s not a wholly unfamiliar train of thought; she’s had to work out the peculiar predilections of much worse people than Bruce in her professional life. And Bruce is basically an open book, wearing his needs right there on his face.

He offers up another of those sheepish smiles. “I just don’t want anything to go wrong.”

Natasha kisses him before he can make more excuses, and Bruce says, “Oh,” as though this surprises him, and then he kisses her back, opening to her. She doesn’t promise him anything, but she takes his hand as she stands to go, and Bruce follows her back to her rooms. Her floor in Stark Tower is spartan and impersonal – Natasha doesn’t have a lot of belongings to drag around – but her bed is large and comfortable, and she drags Bruce into another kiss as she walks him towards it. “You can say no,” she says. “But I don’t want you to.”

Bruce’s hands settle shakily on her hips, the sleek fabric of her dress bunching under his fingers. “You just need to stop if I say so. Don’t push. Don’t argue with me.”

“My self-preservation instincts are better than that. Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you.” She starts undoing his shirt buttons, and he watches her do it, stares as her hands spread underneath, her palms on hot skin. She drops a kiss on the curve of his collarbone.

Bruce gives a little gasp as she lays him out on the bed and leans in to take one of his nipples between her teeth, licking at the sensitive tip. He squirms under her, and she lays her thigh right up against his groin, feeling the swell of his dick as he goes hard for her. Natasha starts to kiss him again, wetly on the mouth, but Bruce moans, “Wait,” and she sits up immediately.

“Problem?”

“I don’t think I can do this,” he says apologetically, glancing at the little heart rate monitor on his watch face. “I don’t think I can keep calm.”

She smoothes her dress down over her thighs and nods. “Okay,” she says. “We’ll just have to think of something else then.”

“Right,” Bruce says. But Natasha can tell he doesn’t believe her.

 

Two weeks later, Natasha comes to Bruce with a brand new toy and says, “Have you ever been fucked?”

He seems momentarily baffled by the question. He’s wearing a t-shirt and pajama bottoms, standing in the door to his suite barefoot. She’s wearing a garter belt and a dress that dips dramatically between her breasts. She’s baffled men with less effort plenty of times. “No,” he says finally, looking at the bag in her hand with apprehension and not a little curiosity.

“I think it might be the solution to your little problem.”

“He’s not so little. That’s the problem.”

Natasha slides through the door past him before opening her bag and taking out the dildo and harness. She shows them to him, palms up, holding her toys out in offering.

Bruce looks gently skeptical. “How’s that supposed to work exactly? I get excited and bad things happen. I don’t see any sign that this would take care of that. What are you thinking?”

“I’m just trying to come at the problem from another angle.”

“Literally,” agrees Bruce, his eyes resting on the dildo, not the largest she’s ever owned, but not the smallest either, sleek and black and totally untried. He doesn’t look opposed to the idea, and that is all Natasha’s ever needed: a chance for him to talk himself into it. She waits, patiently, as still as she needs to be. Bruce doesn’t forget that she’s there, but his conflict goes internal, and she watches him thinking with his hand on his chin, fingers tapping against his mouth.

It’s a lovely mouth, and she’s not unaffected by the thought of it on her body more intimately. She’s been a little wet since she started her walk down here, the hum of arousal making her squeeze her thighs together as she waits.

“I don’t know if it’ll work,” he says finally. “There are too many variables, and I…” He looks up, and the “I don’t want to rip you apart” is implied.

“Just let me know if it’s too much. You’re running the show, and you know your limits better than anyone.”

“Sometimes I’m not sure how much good that does me.” But he comes to her and kisses her, soft, gentlemanly.

Natasha undresses him, works her hands in under his clothes and feels out the shape of his body, tests the smooth flesh of his back with her fingernails and makes him gasp. “Is that okay?” she asks, and Bruce rests his face in the curve of her neck. With her in her heels they’re nearly the same height.

“It’s just been a long time since anyone touched me who wasn’t treating me like a science project. I have to get used to it again.”

She slides her hands under the waist of his pajamas and grabs his ass in one fluid motion. “I guess you will,” she agrees, spreading his cheeks a little so she can touch his hole for the first time. Bruce flinches, but his dick stays hard against her hip.

His bed is rumpled from his getting up to answer the door, and Natasha enjoys the smell of him on the sheets, clean and slightly soapy. No cologne, nothing complicated. She kicks off her heels and climbs on top of him, straddling his thighs. Bruce watches her from half-lidded eyes as she pulls her dress over her head. Black bra, black panties, old-fashioned stockings. Bruce swallows and shuts his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything. Natasha’s prepared for that. She slides off and gives him a moment to himself as she takes off the rest of her clothes.

“Can I eat you out?” Bruce asks baldly, as she’s bending to roll down her stockings. Everything she’s been thinking about his mouth kicks into high gear. “I figured if there’s ever a not-wrong time to ask that question, it would be right now.”

“Absolutely,” says Natasha. “Never a better moment.” She considers the risks inherent in sitting on his face, Bruce a danger to himself even under controlled conditions. Then she lays herself out, easily, eagerly available.

He watches her, keeps just watching her, and she can see him working himself up to it, considering his own heart rate and level of excitement, calculating where his boundaries are and how to stay away from them. She waits for him to figure it out, trusting him to do it better than she could. There have only been a handful of times when she was willing to trust someone else’s judgment this way. After all, she was raised to work alone and keep her own counsel.

Bruce lies close to her, kisses her mouth and tucks his face into the side of her neck, kissing her there too, making Natasha shiver in his arms. His lips are warm and soft, lingering, and she knows he’s holding back, afraid for her, sweetly hesitant. Natasha’s never bothered with that kind of restraint in the bedroom. She cups his face between her hands, running her fingers through his thick dark hair as she kisses him more deeply. He cups one of her breasts, circling her nipple and then pinching it gently before catching it between his teeth. She sighs and shifts towards him, encouraging.

Bruce’s lips trail down, press gently against her ribs, her belly, the little hills of her hipbones. Bruce breathes in deeply, nuzzling in between her legs, and Natasha grips a little tighter at his hair. “Don’t pull too hard,” he whispers, looking up at her. But he’s smiling, playful, and Natasha can’t help smiling back.

And then he wipes the smile right off her face with his tongue, big, blunt-fingered hands holding her open, his mouth working over her clit and then right into the center of her. Natasha bends her knees up, shivers as he presses in closer, licks slowly into her as though he’s savoring it. She watches his eyes flutter closed, his brows drawing together in concentration. His tongue flattens and then flutters against her swollen clit, and Natasha moans high in her throat. She’s been so worked up, and she’s close already. And then Bruce slides two fingers into her and crooks them against her g-spot with practiced care, and she is done, cursing in three languages and trying not to rip his hair out by the roots. Bruce lets her ride his fingers, wringing out every last shock of sensation, thumbing over her clit in slow strokes until she has to stop him.

“Thanks,” sighs Bruce, laying his head on her thigh and smiling up at her. She’s a little relieved to find he isn’t the least bit green.

“Anytime,” replies Natasha, pressing her thumb against his wet lips. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about fucking you.”

“I don’t think you ever forget anything.” He shuts his eyes. She can feel him adjusting himself, shifting against the mattress, and she wants to get him some relief in whatever way she can. “It still may not work,” Bruce says, as though he can tell what she’s thinking.

“Then we’ll keep trying until we find something that does. I’m going to make you come for me any way I can.”

His mouth tastes like her when he crawls back up for another kiss, and the tip of his hard cock skates along her thigh. Bruce is trembling, trying to keep his body from touching hers, and it’s almost a lost cause. Natasha’s hands find their way into his hair, and she’s holding him and guiding him and not even doing anything besides kissing. Bruce makes sounds, little and desperate and lovely, but until he tells her to stop, she’s going to keep going. And then he does.

“Wait,” Bruce whispers, just “wait”, and Natasha lets go suddenly and settles back, lies still and quiescent and harmless. “God,” says Bruce, looking at her. His voice is rough and low, and she has to wonder a little where it comes from, a little zing of fear going up her spine. He isn’t green, but what does she know about the nature of his transformations.

He rolls onto his back and throws an arm across his eyes, taking deep steady breaths in the careful way that means someone trained him, and Natasha is scared and turned on, and turned on is winning by a mile. She slides a hand down between her legs and rubs a little at the still-tingling lips of her pussy, slipping one finger in between to stroke her swollen clit. She watches Bruce’s cock sitting heavy against his belly, looking uncomfortable as hell. But she can’t touch him, and she watches him strain not to touch himself.

She takes a chance. “Roll over,” she whispers, and Bruce groans. He hesitates, but he gets onto knees and elbows for her, offering exactly what she wants. He bends his head down, and she scrapes her nails up the back of his neck, just lightly, just enough to make him shiver all over again. Natasha hasn’t done this to a man in a while, and she savors the feel of his skin under her fingers as she reaches into the crack of his ass, touches the tight center of his hole. She doesn’t even press, just strokes a little, and Bruce is so still he might not even be breathing, his eyes closed as he presses his face down into the pillows.

Natasha grabs the lube from her bag, a little bottle of the good stuff, and Bruce glances up over his shoulder at the sound of the cap opening. But he doesn’t say anything to discourage her. She touches his hole again, rubs slick fingers around it. She still doesn’t try to go into him, but she’s getting him used to the idea, making him comfortable with the feel of her touching him there, and Bruce sighs and opens to her as though this is all old hat to him.

“You’re sure no one’s done this to you before?” Natasha says, and now she slips a fingertip in a little deeper, and Bruce sighs and shifts against the bed.

“Never,” he says. “No one but you.”

She pulls her finger out and then presses in again, just to feel him opening for her. She slicks her fingers again, and Bruce gasps when she forces two inside him, crooked and rubbing at him. “Good?” asks Natasha.

“Weird,” says Bruce. “But not bad. It’s worth continuing the experiment.”

“Good. Because I don’t want to stop.” She presses her lips to his shoulder blade, and Bruce sighs softly. He’s still hard when she slides a hand around to touch his cock, and the noise Bruce makes is low and plaintive. He hangs his head, looking so vulnerable, so completely human.

She straps on the harness, tightening it around her hips, and Bruce rolls onto his back to watch her. “I didn’t think this was really my thing,” says Bruce with a crooked grin. “But you do it awfully well.”

“I haven’t done anything yet.” She smiles back. “Do you want it like this?”

“Any way you’ll have me,” he says.

Natasha guides the dildo slowly into his ass, and Bruce rolls his head against the pillow, hitching his hips up against hers, getting into it. Natasha watches him take it, watches him open to her, and it turns her on just to see it. She spreads the lips of her pussy, settles the base of the fake cock in closer against her flushed skin. “How are you feeling?” she asks, skating her nails up the back of his thigh, spreading his knees a little wider.

He grips at the sheets, rocking his hips against her, feeling her out. “Not green,” he says, and that’s all she needs to start fucking him, moving slowly in and out, watching the play of sensation across his face. His dick is lying fat and hard against his belly, and Natasha doesn’t try to touch it, gripping his hips instead, stroking his thighs, concentrating on all the other parts of Bruce’s body that could use a touch. He’s so open for it, arching into her, spreading wider, making his body so available for everything she wants to do to him, and Natasha is almost giddy with the feeling of power it gives her. She fucks him harder, faster, deeper, and Bruce moans through it as though every moment is a new revelation. And maybe it is, to a straight guy who admits it’s been years since he had sex.

“Slower,” Bruce whispers. “God, slower.” And Natasha does as he says, bottoming out in him each time before drawing back. Bruce touches the slick rim of his asshole, fondles his balls, and then cups a hand over his cock as though he’s not sure what to do with it. Natasha takes stock of the body under her, the curl of his toes, the tightly stretched muscles in his spread thighs. She leans back, catching her breath, holding her cock deep inside him and watching his face as he works himself on it. Every little jolt of his hips brings the base of the dildo up against her clit, and she might come again if she keeps going, but that’s secondary now. She wants to watch Bruce--sweet, unassuming, human Bruce--come apart for her.

He scrubs a hand across his face and looks up, his other hand still cupped around his hard cock.

“Is it working?” Natasha asks. “Is this what you needed?”

Bruce shakes his head, wonderingly, not a denial. “It’s good,” he whispers, surprised. She leans down to kiss him.

Bruce makes a noise then, a low groan that seems to vibrate through his whole body, and Natasha sits back, wondering if she’s crossed a line, wondering if she can get out before the Hulk rips her to shreds. But he doesn’t change. His back arches and he slams a normal-sized fist into the mattress, and Natasha watches him come in thick bursts across his belly. His face goes slack with shock and pleasure, and Natasha gives a few more slow, rolling thrusts inside him before pulling out, pressing her fingers against his hole, feeling him still slick and open for her. Bruce lies there with his eyes closed for a minute before he looks up and grins.

Natasha smiles back. “Told you I’d figure it out,” she says, unstrapping the harness and settling herself on his chest.

Bruce runs a hand down her back. “Next time I’ll believe you.”

She can hear his heartbeat, a little fast but steady, and she beats her fingers against his ribs in time to it. Bruce falls asleep with his face pressed into her hair, and Natasha decides she doesn’t need to go back to her own suite just yet.


End file.
